


Bad Days

by oncetherelivedaboy



Series: The Dysfunctional Marriage of John and Alexander [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex has a break-down, M/M, One-Shot, doesn't have to do with any of my other stuff, kind of sad, mostly just fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncetherelivedaboy/pseuds/oncetherelivedaboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a bad day, and that was the understatement of a lifetime. Alex had been in a bad mood for the last few weeks, slowly letting it build over time, and John was waiting for the other shoe to drop. To come home to the house wrecked or his stuff thrown out onto the porch or front lawn, and as much as John would have liked to stay home with him, wrap him up in blankets and kiss away the bad feelings, he had to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Days

It had been a bad day, and that was the understatement of a lifetime. Alex had been in a bad mood for the last few weeks, slowly letting it build over time, and John was waiting for the other shoe to drop. To come home to the house wrecked or his stuff thrown out onto the porch or front lawn, and as much as John would have liked to stay home with him, wrap him up in blankets and kiss away the bad feelings, he had to work.

John gets home in the early hours of the morning, a time when Alexander is either passed out on the bed or couch or at his desk, or he’s wide awake on a caffeine driven quest, loud music coming from the office and every light on. Mostly it was writing, but he’d come home to Alex building furniture, to Legos strewn across the floor and Alex building, something. He’d said he was taking up a new hobby, they never stuck. When writing though John’s presence was always hit or miss, sometimes Alex would be thrilled, other times indifferent to his presence as if he hadn't felt his husband’s lips on his forehead, recently though he’d been met with hostility. Alex telling him to go away, that he had shit to do and if John wasn’t going to help he wasn't of any use. Alex accused him of cheating, and John pretended like it wasn't Alex who’d been caught in bed with Jefferson only months prior, pretends that the accusations don’t make him feel like when he found out.

The bad days had always been there, and they made do when they could, sometimes he’d just wake up in foul mood, other times something would trigger it. A stranger at the coffeeshop telling him he would look pretty with a little make-up, someone calling him ma’am. He hadn’t wanted surgery, didn’t think it was worth it, and he wore the binder too long, slept in it way too often. John tried to get him to stop, going over the reasons why it was so dangerous only to be dismissed. Somedays John wondered why they’d gotten married in the first place, Alex and his temperament, and sure John had once been worse, got in actual fights one too many times until he ended up with a broken arm, bruised ribs, dislocated shoulder, Alex had made him stop, had threatened to leave if he didn’t get his act together, so he had. Back in those days Alex’s mom was still alive, she sent letters from St.Croix, and little care packages, a few candies and some pictures. She got sick shortly before the end of summer break, before he headed back to the states, passed away within a week of the semester starting. He never made it to the funeral, went back during Christmas to pay his respects, finding his cousin dead in the process. He hadn’t been the same since.

John suggested surgery, Alex told him it wasn’t worth it, said it cost to much, said the same thing about hormones, and while John loved Alex exactly as is, he also wanted him to be comfortable and knew that the misgendering was because of how other people saw him, suggesting a hair cut had been his last offense, and Alex hadn’t talked to him for days after. It reminded him of his mother, something they had in common, even if hers had been more gray than black when John met her. He’d always come back from breaks with his hair cut short. His mom had cut it, and he hadn’t gone to have it even trimmed since, so at this point it fell past just past his shoulders in soft dark waves.

Today was like the others, John came home, still in his scrubs to the house lit up like a Christmas tree, only there was no music, and it looked like a tornado had been through, papers strewn across nearly every surface. He went to the bedroom first, hoping to find Alex in bed, but it was empty, the disaster seemed to spread to there as well, the office was empty and he found Alex behind the only closed door in the house. Hands curled around the sides of the sink, tears falling down his face, he was hunched over, staring at the dark clumps of hair in the sink, the scissors still in his grip.

“Alex.” It was more of a breath than a word and he heard the sob, from the man in front of the mirror. John approached him, uncurled his fingers from the sink as he shook, taking the scissors and setting them to the side. He wrapped Alex in his arms, he barely moved on his own, just turned his face into the scrubs. John could barely bring himself to care, they’d need to be washed anyway. He stroked the mess of hair back, choppy and uneven, it reminded him of when his younger sister had cut her hair when they were little. “I’ve got you.” He said as he lowered them both to the floor, tucking Alex between his knees, his back against John’s chest, John’s arms around him anchoring him, his head tucked under John’s chin. “Shhh, honey, It’s alright, everything’s gonna be ok, everything’s gonna be ok.” It took a long time for him to actually calm down, to turn around in John’s arms and bury his face back into the fabric.

“I’m sorry.” He eventually mutters.

“It’s alright.” His hand is moving up and down his back. “You wanna get in the shower so we can clean up your hair?” Alex nods and they stand, Alex on shaky legs as he guides him to the shower, pulling off his sweater and t-shirt, pajama pants come next but John leaves him in his boxers, Alex barely registers it as John helps him out of the binder. He turns him around so that he has his back to him as he sits in the tub. John stripping down to his own underwear and sitting behind him in the tub, turning the shower on and not letting it hit Alex until it’s running warm beneath his fingertips. He rinses it first, the drain already clogging with long dark strands of hair, he brushes through it with gentle precision before taking the scissors up again.

“I’m going to clean it up as best I can.” Alex nods, and John does what he can, the sides are shot, there's no way he’s going to be able to salvage that except by taking clippers to it. “Do you want me to try to keep…”

“Cut it all.” Alex says his jaw set.

“I have some clippers under the sink.” John suggests and Alex nods. He cuts some more length off, and then rinses his hair again, and they climb out of the tub, John wrapping Alex in a towel and drying his hair with another. He gets the clippers, finds the longest guard and attaches it, more hair covers the floor, Alex is still shaking as he sits on the floor, John kneeling just above him. When it's finished and John turns the clippers off the room goes dead quiet and Alex lifts his hands to his scalp, John brushing away as much as he can. He gets up as John is putting away the clippers, goes to their room, leaving John to clean the bathroom as best he can. He’ll vacuum in the morning if he has too, but he does what he can with the broom for now.

He takes a shower, when he’s finished cleaning, finds Alex curled up under the covers, a hat pulled snug over his head. He pulls on a pair of pajamas, doesn’t join him quite yet, picks up the papers that had been scattered through the bedroom, not bothering to read them, and stacking them on the dresser before climbing in next to him after flipping the lights off.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

**Author's Note:**

> Started senior year today, had this idea in college algebra. You can find me at oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com


End file.
